Katie's Blog

So it begins! The Valley International Poetry Festival! Yesterday, we kicked it off with a lovely anthology release celebration and reading at the Mission Historical Museum. It was, in one word, magical. Truly. We sat out on the lawn and had a beautiful little picnic and poetry reading as the sunset. The only way it could have been better? If there was wine. I was honored to have three poems in the anthology this year, and I read one of them at the reading. Always, though, the best part of the event is reconnecting with old friends and meeting new ones. Some of the highlights of the night were meeting Laura Pena, my long-distance critique buddy, chatting up Shirley Rickett and checking out her new poetry collection, Transplant, and holding the new anthology, Boundless, in my hands. The fun continued today at UTPA, where Mary Ann Escamilla and I hosted a poetry reading with PW Covington and Shirley Rickett for the campus community. It was relaxed, laid back, and a little ...

So, I had a new experience recently! A photoshoot! Whaat? My thoughts exactly. But it actually was pretty fun. There I am, soaking it all in and getting my goddess on! Here's how it all went down: Last weekend, I had the pleasure of getting interviewed for Beyond Arts Magazine . They cover all the arts events and happenings in the RGV, San Antonio, and Austin. It's actually a pretty nifty little magazine. Anyway, they wanted to do a little story on me and my award/book. Coolness, I say, and agree, not really sure what I was all getting into. The interview goes well enough. I meet with Alyssa, the writer, at a local coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon, and she asks me smart questions about my book, my influences, and feminism. We have a great little chat, and then, as we're about to say our goodbyes, she asks me, "Oh, are you down for a photo shoot a little later in the week? We'll need some pictures for the magazine." In my mi...

Today truly was just a freewrite. I'm beyond busy, which maybe comes across in this poem :-P The prompt was to write a pastoral. I went for a quick walk in my horribly overgrown backyard. I got bit by a few desperate mosquitoes. I saw some hummingbirds battle over the last drops of nectar in the feeder. I destroyed a few spiderwebs with my forehead. Meh. Napo 20 The weeds take over if you let them, Drown out everything you’ve planted Carefully, in a moment when your life Was something less chaotic. No, This isn’t the clean, neat garden You’d planted, complete with herbs, Chocolate mint, tarragon, and sage Growing in their tiny garden boxes, Gardenias, lavender, phlox, blooming In their flower boxes, the fruit trees trimmed to maximize efficiency. No, it’s absolutely overgrown – the rain Kept coming and you were too busy To tend to it, to clip, mow, or weed, And now the garden is beyond repair – Overrun by whatever took root. But somehow, bea...

Today's prompt was to write an erasure poem. I've never done that before, so this was, well, interesting? That's a good word. I took a women's health article about weight loss, and chiseled this nonsense from it: There may be no magic pill for weight loss, but dietician Julie Upton, MS, RD, of Appetite for Health stays on top of the science behind taming your appetite naturally. Here, she deciphers recent research and shares six foods that will keep your appetite in check. Feel like you need some help with hunger management? You're not alone. Most of my clients who struggle with weight loss or maintenance also struggle with hunger. Of course, it's no coincidence — it's hard to walk around feeling famished, particularly when you're faced with the temptation of high-calorie treats everywhere you turn. No wonder willpower wilt s! The good news is that several new studies have identified compounds in certain foods that trigger the release of h...

Today's Napo is about my grandmother. I inherited a lot from her -- my name, my chubby feet, my stubbornness. Probably most marked, at least recently, has been my spinal condition, though. My mom and my grandma never got along, so I never really got to know her very well before she passed away.  So this poem is a little bit about that. I'd like to write more about my grandma Grace, about our relationship that really isn't one, and yet, how she shapes the way I move in this world still.  Today's prompt was to write a poem about things I know for certain. When it comes to my grandma, that list is pretty short, but hmm... Napo 18 Things I Know About Her I know you had to be beautiful once, We all were in a moment in time When the sun danced on the tip Of your nose, when your skin Smelled of raspberries, your hair Like gardenias, when you wore spring Across your shoulders like a shawl. I know your life must have been marked With beauty,...

At the poets' table! From left -- Edward Vidaurre, Emmy Perez, myself, Sergio, Nayelly Barrios, Celina Gomez, and Chris My love, B, was behind the camera, which is his usual spot. So, yesterday was pretty special. I was honored to read a poem at the wedding of my friends Rodney Gomez and Sara Herrera. Being invited to do this was just so humbling. When Rodney told me about his plans for this evening, my heart melted. I eagerly agreed. The only problem? I don't really write love poetry. I'm a feminist poet, and, well, us feminists have a pretty conflicted relationship with love poetry, because so often it comes across as objectifiying -- written by a male subject to an unmoving female object. Bleh. Or it comes across as cliched, overly sentimental, gushing and bleh. So, in short, although I love the idea of love and love poetry, it's just something I find difficult to do well. Or maybe it's just that love is such a powerful force in our lives as human beings th...

Today's prompt was to write a poem about urgency. I didn't have too many ideas, so I kind of pulled this one out of nowhere. I'm going to revise this one and work it out some more, but I want to write a poem about a little girl hearing the ice cream man's song, and it proclaims spring's resurrection, kind of comparing the little girl to Mary Magdalene and the ice cream man to the resurrection. Meh. This draft doesn't include all of that, so... I'll work at it :) Reawakening The world was dead, quiet, not a single bird Or cricket sang. The nights were long, endless, winter hadn’t loosened her grip yet. The season was for mourning, coming to terms With the reality of a lifetime of slate skies, The cold and lifeless ground, crocuses Forever sealed inside their bud like closed fists. So when, early in the morning, I stepped out Barefoot onto the cement outside, I had to suspend my disbelief at the warmth Of spring’s fingers on my face,...